


royal, midnight, cobalt

by kyrilu



Category: Treasure - ObsidianPen
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: Every night, the Golden Child falls asleep to the sound of the sea.





	royal, midnight, cobalt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObsidianPen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianPen/gifts).



> Disclaimer that these are not my characters. This is fic of ObsidianPen's [Treasure](https://m.fictionpress.com/s/3292638/1/Treasure), which is a lovely story that you should definitely go read right now. (This fic is rather spoilery, so I suggest not reading it if you're not up to date to Treasure.)
> 
> My thanks to Jamie for giving permission to post fic.

Every night, the Golden Child falls asleep to the sound of the sea. He is blanketed by soft silk; he is wreathed with a crown of laurels; his skin is smeared with the swirls of paint. But he does not dream of finery--he dreams of  _ blue. _

 

\--

 

Sometimes it feels like his life has become a blur. The visitors, the prayers, the celebrations. You, the Son of the Sun, are unaging and eternal; you, a god, must bear these chains and these whips.

The haze is broken by the smile of an altar boy.

 

\--

 

“You’ve never swam before?” the boy says in disbelief.

“Never.”

“But you live here! In Cobalt! The sea’s right there.” The boy flaps his robed arms toward the window. “It’s important you should know how.”

“Mm,” the Golden Child acknowledges. “I suppose it would be interesting to try to read a fish’s soul. I wonder if they, too, are gifted. A fish with very strong fins--”

“Not like that,” the altar boy says. “But what if you fell in, my lord?” Then he flushes, realizing the absurdity of what he suggested.

The Golden Child is, after all, a god with the power of healing, and it isn’t as if there are many opportunities for him to drown. He rarely ventures out, since he’s holed up in the church.

The Golden Child smiles. “I suppose you’ll have to dive in and pull me out, Zale.”

 

\--

 

“I mean, I could,” the altar boy says. “Maybe, one night, I can help you get out and teach you how to swim. It’s good to know how to swim with the current, so you don’t get pulled out into the ocean. My lord,” he adds at the end.

It’s a very neat plan, but it never happens - sometimes, the things you want never end up materializing. But Gold still tries to dream of it, later.

Just one night. One night in the darkness under the moon, slipping into the water, the altar boy guiding him by hand. The wind is soft, and Zale has loosened the braid in his hair. His hair sweeps up behind him. Gold catches the strands with his fingertips, and Zale turns around and notices how luminous Gold’s eyes look in the moonlight. Around them is so much blue.

 

\-- 

 

It is a common happenstance. After ceremonies, after services, a child will rush to the Golden Child, pushing past the priests, quick and nimble. A child who does not know better. A child of Cobalt who isn’t aware of the rules set in place.

_ Please, _ they always say.

Bring my mother back to life. Bring my father back to life. Bring my sister or brother. My dog. My grandfather.

“I cannot,” the Golden Child says, if he can manage it, as the priests hurry the interloper away. “I am sorry."

He knows the priests do not like it. This is a reminder that their god has limitations; he does not owe apologies, or forgiveness, he exists to heal and to divine and to suffer.

But he can’t. He can’t bring the dead back to life.

 

\--

 

Oftentimes, the dragon gives his captive dreams of the waves of Cobalt. He gives him dreams of blue, devoid of people, devoid of memory.

The prisoner walks across the sand and wades into the water. There is a cool wind on his face; there are birds in the sky, idly circling and squawking.

Sometimes the captive will close his eyes, open them, and realize that he is crying. The dragon makes him forget every time.


End file.
